Two Good Looking Jews
by amythedork
Summary: A series of Puck/Rachel drabbles that don't deserve their own post. Rated T for swearing. xD  / 4: How to Survive a Hangover.
1. 1 How to Stop an Argument: Puck Style

I'm excited! I've just discovered the Puck/Rachel drabble meme, and I have a feeling that I'll be writing some more, haha. So this is where I'll be keeping all my random little drabbles. :)  
Inspired by this prompt by roncha78:  
**Puck figured out that the best way to shut Rachel up when they're fighting/arguing/he messed up/he wants her to do something is to sing to her, because she could never resist him when he was singing. Rachel's on to him.**

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Tears are very clearly filling up in Rachel's eyes, and Puck kind of wants to shoot himself in the head. She's over-reacting again, simply because he may have accidentally told her that the completely-vegan dinner that she'd prepared especially for him tasted like shit. Look, he's not a bad guy. It's not like he wanted to start an argument. Seriously, does he look stupid to you? He never wins arguments with Rachel. Ever. And every time she gets the final word, he feels like he's been mentally kicked in the balls. So yeah, he usually just keeps his mouth shut. But Rachel had asked if it was okay, and then he'd said that he'd like it more with meat in it, and she took it way too personally and thought he'd been insulting her culinary skills, and from that point on, things kind of just... exploded.

"Babe, calm down..." His voice is pleading as he stands in front of her in the candle-lit kitchen, his hands placed protectively in front of his chest, as she waves her arms around in huge gestures, her face growing more and more red, as the volume of her voice rises steadily. He's sort of scared that she's going to end up hitting him, and he really feels fucking pathetic.

"Calm down? You seem to completely disregard the fact that you deeply offended me! I'll have you know, Noah Puckerman, that I took a Home Economics class last year, and that I know how to prepare delicious food!"

She's talking quickly, furiously, even with the tears that are now streaming down her face and dripping from her chin. Puck can only stare with wide, horrified eyes. She has to be on her period or something, because her crazy has multiplied by like, thirteen billion. She's still yelling, but Puck can barely even make out what she's saying anymore. Fuck his life.

"...And now, it appears that my own boyfriend doesn't even care about the trouble I go through to make him a wonderful meal! It just goes to show that you have no respect for me, and you're obviously only using me for sexual intercourse-"

"Baby, you're talking crazy-" He tries to cut her off, but it's obviously the worst thing he could have possibly said in the history of _ever, _because her eyes grow huge and her hands fly to her hips, and she seems to take this big, deep breath, and he is legit fucking fearing for his life and-

"I. AM. NOT. CRAZY."

He's kind of impressed at the amount of noise that can come out of someone so small. He's not impressed, however, with her new rant, one that details clearly all the times in the last year that he's called her crazy, and how her therapist has told her time and time again that she definitely isn't.

His ears are starting to hurt and he really fucking wants her to shut up now, because he doesn't want to argue. He wants to eat his (crappy, though he'd never, ever, _ever_ say that to her face) dinner and then fuck her happily until her dads come home.

So he opens his mouth to interrupt her again and he's seriously fucking surprised at what comes out.

"_Where it began, I can't begin to know when,_"

She stops mid-sentence to stare at him in complete and utter confusion. Thankful for the sudden silence, he keeps singing.

"_But then I know it's growin' strong."_

She blinks, and Puck smirks as he sings, knowing she's lost her train of thought. Win, at least for a second. But then she speaks again, though her voice seems a whole lot calmer all of a sudden.

"Puck, you can't just-"

He hates it now, when she uses his first name. The sound is unfamiliar to him, and he knows it means she's still mad at him so he doesn't let her finish what she's saying.

"_Wasn't the spring-"_

"Puck!"

"_And spring became summer, who'd believed you'd come along."_

He's trying to make his voice all quit and sexy and irresistible in the dimly-lit kitchen, because he knows Rachel's number-one turn on is music, and he wants to be seductive, dammit. He's watching her as he sings, her lips shaped in a stubborn pout, her cheeks flushed with anger, and her arms crossed against her chest. She's unknowingly pushing her boobs up and making them look bigger in the flickering of the candlelight, and his jeans suddenly feel a little tighter. She's fucking stunning. And she seriously needs to calm down so he can get under that little skirt of hers. He steps closer.

"I can't believe you're doing this-"

"_Hands touching hands,"_

He takes a hold of both her wrists, pulling them gently away from her chest, and she sighs and rolls her eyes, but lets him do it anyway.

"_Reaching out,"_

He runs his thumb over her jawline, and her eyes flutter close for a second. She takes several calming breaths, and Puck's smirk grows bigger. He's the fucking man.

"_Touching me, touching you, oh."_

His hand moves to the back of her head, holding her in place, and she places both of her own hands on his chest, obviously trying to keep a distance between them, but he's having none of it.

"_Sweet Caroline,"_

He leans his head towards her, so that his nose brushes against hers softly. Her eyes close again, and he hears her quiet sigh, her breath warm against his face.

"_Good times never seemed so good,"_

"Noah..." His name is nothing but a whisper on her lips and he knows he's won, because suddenly she's like this little fireball-type-thing, and her arms are tightly wound around his neck, her legs are wrapped around his own, and he's holding her in his arms as she kisses him stupid.

All he can hear inside is head is cheering. Yes, yes, fucking yes.

He doesn't even get to finish the chorus.


	2. 2 The Midwife

**Inspired by a prompt from sara345 over at the drabble meme. (Rachel's midwife flirts shamelessly with Puck.)**  
**Sorry for any mistakes, it's 2am and I'm super-tired, haha. Also, fanfiction's formatting seems to hate me, jsyk. xD  
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When Rachel's water breaks, it's safe to say that her fiancé Noah has a slight panic attack. She's standing in the kitchen when it happens, and all she can do is clutch the glass of milk in her hand and stare at the puddle of water on the tiled floor in a strange kind of awe. Noah, on the other hand, sinks into a chair, his face pale and his eyes wide. For Rachel, it's rather alarming, as Noah has never been the type to stare at the wall, his face completely blank, as he takes deep, calming breaths. She barely has time to adjust to his sudden change in character however, as after only half a minute of his breathing session, he's jumping off the chair and sprinting into the living room. Rachel follows, and can only watch, in a state of both shock and amusement, as he races back and forth in a tornado of panic and worry, yelling random swear words as he tries to find her maternity bag and his car keys.

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His driving on the way to the hospital scares Rachel more than the thought of having to push a baby out of a place that seems much too small to have to push a baby out of. She clings to the car door as Noah navigates his way through the New York City traffic at a speed that can not be considered safe, repeatedly asking her if she's okay. She's fine. Personally, she thinks he's over-reacting, especially since she's only had a few contractions, and they're still at least nine minutes apart. When she tries to tell him this, he yells at her. Then apologizes eight times in a row. She's never seen him like this before and she thinks it's simultaneously both the sweetest and most annoying thing she's ever seen.

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At the hospital, Noah calms down a little when the midwife tells him that they still have quite a while to wait. He apologizes again, and strokes Rachel's hair gently as the midwife shows them to a private room. Noah hasn't yet met the midwife, and he shakes her hand briefly as she introduces herself as "Elizabeth, but you can call me Lizzie." Rachel rolls her eyes and huffs under her breath. She doesn't for one second, miss the way that "Lizzie's" eyes rake over his muscled body, lingering on his backside when he bends over to help Rachel get comfortable in her bed. She's used to women checking her fiancé out, but she thinks it's much more inappropriate to do so when his partner is clearly about to give birth to his child. She frowns at the woman, who isn't even paying any attention to her, and is instead asking if this is Noah's first child and if he's feeling okay.

* * *

"It... hurts!" She's moaning through gritted teeth as yet another contraction sweeps over her body. They're now happening every two minutes and they're lasting up to thirty seconds at a time. It's painful, to say the least, and Noah is looking guilty and concerned as he offers Rachel his hand to squeeze. She takes it and grips hard, squeezing her eyes tightly closed as she counts the seconds in her head. When it's over, she collapses back into her pillows and whimpers, her free hand rubbing her stomach slowly.

"Oh dear," Elizabeth says sympathetically, and pats Rachel's cheek as though she knows how she's feeling. Rachel openly scowls at her. With her trim, toned figure, curly blonde ponytail and heavily made-up eyes, she looks as though she's just out of college. Certainly not old enough to have a child of her own. "Can I get you anything?"

Rachel resents the fact that her midwife is smiling warmly at her fiancé as she asks. She mumbles grumpily under her breath, but no one seems to hear her.

"Um, some water for Rachel would be great," Noah responds, his fingers trailing softly down Rachel's sweaty cheek.

Elizabeth nods and beams at him. "You're very sweet. Coming right up."

She leaves the room with a flip of her hair and a sway in her step, clearly desperate for Noah's attention. Rachel almost growls.

"I hate her," She declares and struggles to sit up a little.

Noah looks alarmed as he assists her and fluffs her pillows. "What, why? She seems nice."

"Are you honestly completely oblivious to the fact that she's openly flirting with you?"

He laughs, and it enrages her. She punches him on the arm with as much strength as she can muster up, which evidently by his lack of reaction, isn't much.

"Baby, you're being fucking ridiculous. She's hear to help us."

Rachel stares at him murderously, but doesn't reply. He smirks at her and hands her the remote to the the television that's across from her bed.

"Besides, even if she is flirting, can you blame her? Everyone wants a piece of the Pucksaurus."

She flings the remote at him just as another contraction starts. Her aim is terrible and it hits the wall behind him. He laughs again but lets her squeeze his hand anyway, despite her attempts to injure him.

Elizabeth eventually returns with not just water for Rachel, but with coke and cake for Noah because apparently, he "has to keep his strength up".

"I'm the one in labour!" Rachel protests, but the midwife doesn't seem to hear her.

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Rachel's now nine centimetres dilated and almost ready to go to the delivery room. Her contractions are only mere seconds apart, and it's the most pain she can ever remember experiencing in her life. Her face is wet with sweat and tears, and Noah is murmuring comforting words into her ear as she battles the agony of another contraction. Elizabeth's hand is on Noah's shoulder as she offers Rachel her other hand to squeeze. Rachel slaps it away and squeezes her eyes shut, not even wanting to look at the woman. Through the pain, she can hear the midwife laugh it off, saying something along the lines of "The poor girl, can you even imagine?" and she's not sure she's ever felt so angry, and emotional and even a little jealous that Elizabeth's all pretty and thin, when she's big and tired and messy.

After the contraction has faded, she opens her eyes to Noah staring at her anxiously. She manages to give him a weak smile and reaches up to touch his cheek, terrified for the birth but excited to meet the child that they'd made together. He smiles back and kisses her gently on the lips.

The doctor and a nurse are conversing at the bottom of her bed, and Elizabeth is standing just behind Noah with a damp wash cloth in her hand. She hands it to him, who proceeds to wipe the sweat from Rachel's face softly.

"So caring. You're going to make a great dad, Noah."

The second she hears Elizabeth call her fiancé Noah, Rachel can feel all those crazy pregnant-women hormones just explode. Noah can obviously tell, as he smooths back her hair in a calming motion and then turns to the blonde.

"Actually, uh, you can call me Puck. My nickname."

The girl beams and touches his arm briefly. "Puck, how _charming_."

Then Rachel loses it. With great effort, she pushes herself up, ignoring the nurse's protests against her doing so, and glares at Elizabeth as though she wants to pull the curly blonde hair straight from her head.

"You have to back off." She says clearly, threateningly. "Noah _will_ be a wonderful father, but to _my_ baby. I don't know who you think you are, but flirting so casually with a pregnant woman's partner whilst she is about to _give birth_ and can _very clearly see you _is most certainly not acceptable by any means! Noah is _mine_, and you have single-handedly managed to make this entire procedure a little more unbearable for me. As though it's not stressful and painful enough!"

She feels the familiar rippling of another contraction and she groans loudly, leaning back on her elbows. There is complete silence in the small hospital room. Noah is positively grinning at her, the doctor and the nurse are staring at her in surprise, and Elizabeth looks completely taken-aback and a little humiliated.

"I demand -ah!- another midwife, right now, because -ouch!- I simply can't deal with this _bitch_ a moment longer!" She collapses with a series of grunts, whimpers and moans, as the nurse takes a stunned Elizabeth's arm and leads her from the room. Puck begins to laugh as she squeezes his hand, and he peppers kisses all over her face.

"You're a fucking _badass_, baby," He says happily. "I'm so goddamn proud of you."

Rachel manages to gasp out a laugh too, even though there are tears streaming down her face. "Well one of us had to say something!" She groans loudly and clutches her stomach, watching through tired eyes as the doctor at the end of the bed leans down to examine her cervix once more. "I _was_ pretty amazing, wasn't I?"

"Damn straight. I fucking love you."

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Less than an hour later, an emotional Rachel is lying on her bed with a newborn baby girl in her arms. Noah lies beside her, stroking the baby's soft wisps of hair with a look of complete adoration on his face.

"She's gorgeous." He breathes out, and Rachel murmurs her agreement, letting out a happy sigh. Carefully, she passes the baby over to her fiancé, and curls up into his warm body, letting her eyes drift close. She's never been so exhausted and happy in her entire life.

"Next time, I insist on selecting the midwife by a series of interviews and personal recommendations." She says tiredly, and the last thing she hears before drifting off into sleep is Noah's quiet laughter and a baby girl's tiny sigh of content.

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**Review? :)**


	3. 3 Mistletoe

**Based on a prompt by itsoktonotbeok over at the P/R drabble meme: "Puck and Rachel run into each other under the mistletoe. But they're Jewish."**  
**Excuse my spelling/grammar mistakes!**

**Happy Holidays, guys. :)**

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The girl stands in front of the large windows looking quietly out at the snowflakes which fall gracefully from the sky, doing hundreds of flips and spirals until they meet the white blanket that completely covers the large golf course below. She watches with a small, peaceful smile, one hand reaching up to rub lightly at her neck while the other carefully holds a wineglass filled with grape soda.

She's standing next to a large Christmas tree, one that's easily three times the size of her. It's decorated entirely with gold tinsel and ornaments, and in the reflection from the window, she can see the twinkling white tree lights occasionally illuminate her face, the light also bouncing off the delicate beading of her red dress.

From somewhere nearby, Frank Sinatra's Christmas album plays from an expensive stereo system, though his soothing voice can barely be heard over the buzz of conversation that fills the large ballroom. She appears to be the only person standing alone, as in the reflection she can see large groups of unfamiliar faces dancing, drinking, conversing and eating together. Occasionally she'll spot someone she knows, but she makes no effort to join in the festive celebrations. She can't help but feel a little guilty for not being more social. It's Judy Fabray's holiday party, and Quinn had been nice enough to invite the entire glee club. Still, that invite had occurred two weeks ago, when things were very different.

She can see Quinn in the reflection. She's standing beside Finn at the buffet table, eyeing him with distaste as he piles his plate high with mini sandwiches. After rolling her eyes at something he says, she looks away, her eyes scanning the crowd for something.

Rachel can't help but notice how beautiful the blond looks, in a white floor-length gown. Quinn always looks stunning, so it comes as no surprise.

Two more figures approach them, and Quinn immediately smiles, though Finn doesn't even seem to notice. Sam Evans hands his girlfriend a drink and gently kisses her nose, causing her to laugh softly. Santana says nothing, but simply steals one of Finn's sandwiches, winking at him when he spins around in confusion. The tall boy laughs, and his free arm casually wraps itself around her slender waist. Rachel thinks they look good together, Finn in his tux and Santana in a striking backless silver gown.

She sighs and drops her gaze, now ignoring the reflection. When she'd got the invite to a Christmas party she'd been excited, because even though she didn't celebrate the holiday, she loved all things festive. Originally, her plan had been to attend with her then-boyfriend Finn, but things had been strained between them for a while. They'd broken up for good just over a week ago, and Rachel hadn't been at all surprised when Finn had gone to Santana for a shoulder to cry on, and that shoulder to cry on had resulted in a relationship just three or four days later. She'd expected it.

And she isn't angry. Of course, it's not a secret that she's not exactly Santana's biggest fan, but there are no hard feelings.

She is, however, feeling more than just a little lonely.

The feeling intensifies when her eyes fall on a couple embracing on the golf course below, quite some distance away from the house. Her arms are tangled around his neck and his are wrapped around her waist, holding her close as they kiss under the falling snow. Despite the freezing temperature, they don't seem to feel the cold. They seem blissfully unaware of the world around them, and she smiles wistfully when she suddenly recognizes the couple as Mike and Tina. They look happy. She briefly longs for her relationship back, just so she can experience the same happiness, before remembering that she hadn't felt the same kind of love that she was witnessing for a long time.

She sighs.

A pair of strikingly hazel eyes meet hers in the reflection, and although she doesn't turn around to face Noah Puckerman directly, she offers him a small smile. He nods in acknowledgment and steps forward to stand beside her, following her gaze down to Tina and Mike. She knows that he understands instantly, but appreciates that he says nothing, simply watches the embracing couple for a moment as he takes quick sips of his beer. Strangely, Noah is one of the very few people that actually knows her and her emotions.

It's Rachel who breaks the silence first.

"You're underage," She says easily, her eyes on Mike and Tina who are now laughing as they brush the snow from each other. "You shouldn't be drinking."

Puck smirks a little and takes a defiant sip.

"Noah..."

"S'only my first one. I'm not gonna have anymore. I'm driving home later."

"How did you manage to get alcohol, anyway? Quinn said her mother was very strict on that subject."

"Why? Want some?" His tone is playful and suggestive, and she can feel his eyes on her.

"Absolutely not, Puckerman."

He barks out a short laugh and takes another drink. "Of course you don't. I, uh, flirted with the bar lady."

Rachel rolls her eyes, but a fond-sort-of-smile takes over her face. "Of course you did. Stupid question on my part."

The boy grins. "Yup."

There's a brief silence between the two as they sip their drinks and watch the snow fall from the night sky. It's getting heavier, falling faster, and Tina and Mike are now heading back to the hotel, hand-in-hand. The footsteps they leave vanish almost as soon as they step away.

"You look good tonight, Berry." Puck says suddenly, and Rachel turns away from the window to look up at him, her dark eyes a little brighter and her cheeks flushed with pleasure.

"You think so?" She's smiling. He's the first person to compliment her tonight, with the exception of her daddy.

"Yup." He pops his 'p' and he nods, his eyes traveling over her entire body. "Your dress. It's uh, you know. Nice."

Rachel beams at him, her free hand reaching up to play with the gold chain she's wearing around her neck. "Thank you, Noah."

He shrugs and says nothing, but returns the smile anyway. They both turn back to the window at the same time, just as a ripple of laughter breaks out over the crowd behind them. She hears Finn's laugh a little louder than she hears the others, and it makes her stiffen, just a little. She suddenly feels slightly guilty for standing with Noah, since it was her make-out session with the mohawked boy that ultimately led to her break up with Finn. She looks at her feet, swallowing her guilt.

She suddenly feels Noah's large, calloused hand touching her shoulder gently, in an unexpected act of compassion.

"You, uh, holding up okay?" He says a little awkwardly, and she appreciates his effort. She knows that Noah isn't the best at talking about feelings.

She tilts her head up to look at him again.

"I'm okay." She confirms. "I still feel guilty for, well, you know."

A blush spreads across her cheeks, and she hears Noah chuckle under his breath.

"Yeah, you probably shouldn't have done that." He agrees, taking his hand off her shoulder after rubbing it briefly with his thumb. "But don't beat yourself up about it. It was understandable. And he was just as fucked up as you were, so you can't take all the blame."

Rachel smiles and shakes her head a little. "And just when did _you_ get so wise and caring?"

"I told you, babe. I made a promise to God to be nice to my fellow Jews."

"Oh, that's still ongoing?"

"Hell yeah. Except I changed it again, to just good-looking Jews. I really fucking hate that Jewfro kid."

Rachel giggles and nods in agreement, smiling warmly at him before looking back outside. The snow is frosting over the corners of the glass, and she thinks it has a pretty effect. She's always loved everything about the winter, including the parties and festivity, but right now she's wishing that she was home wearing her pink flannel pajamas and fuzzy white slippers, curled up in front of her fireplace with a hot chocolate and her favorite book.

"I can't remember why I came to this stupid thing," She says suddenly, more to her own reflection than to the boy's next to her.

"Me either." His voice agrees. "We don't even celebrate Christmas."

Her eyes meet his in the glass, and she confidently holds his stare.

"Why did you come?" She asks curiously. "I didn't expect a sophisticated Christmas party hosted by Judy Fabray to be your kind of thing."

He scoffs. "It sure as hell isn't. Hudson asked me to come."

"But Finn's over there."

"No duh, genius. He's ditched me for Satan all night."

She smiles at him sympathetically. "It's a new relationship. Give it time. They're still in the infatuated phase."

He grins back at her. "Yeah, thanks, Dr. Phil. So you don't mind Finny D and the devil herself being together then?"

She thinks about it for a second before shaking her head. "No, not really. I saw it coming."

Noah looks at her seriously, trying to figure out if she's lying. She says nothing else, but keeps smiling, enjoying his company. In just five or ten minutes of conversation, he's made her feel a lot better.

"So why did _you_ come?" He asks, and Rachel moves to face him once again, setting her glass down on the table next to them.

"I think I felt like I had a point to make," She said confidently, having already asked herself that question earlier. "I didn't want to be the over-emotional teenage girl staying at home with movies and chocolate."

"Babe, chocolate and movies sounds way more fun than this crappy party."

"I agree."

They both laugh, and Rachel can't help but wonder how she feels so comfortable with Noah. He's quickly become someone that she always ends up opening up to. She likes the thought, though it kind of amazes her, considering he was the one that started the form of torture known as the slushie facial on her very first day of high school. They've both grown, Rachel realizes, and the thought makes her smile just that little bit bigger.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Noah asks easily, and Rachel brushes her long brown curls out of her face.

"I'm thinking that you're acting very unPuckzilla-like right now, hanging out with the sad little girl in the corner, as opposed to drinking your body weight in beer."

Puck grins and rolls his eyes heavenwards, but quickly stops. His playful grin turns into a full-on smirk in less than a second, and he tilts his head back to freely stare at the ceiling. Rachel, a little confused, follows his stare, and her face flushes when she catches sight of the mistletoe that hangs above their heads. She immediately hides her face with her hands and groans, though she's actually rather amused. And her heart is undoubtedly beating a little faster.

"Mistletoe." He states simply, wearing a suggestive crooked smile.

"Yes Noah, mistletoe." Rachel speaks into her hands, causing her voice to sound muffled.

"Too bad we don't celebrate Christmas stuff." She hears him say, and she peeks at him through her fingers. He laughs at her childishness and takes a hold of her hands, gently tugging them away from her face.

"Yes. Too bad," She says quietly, trying her hardest not to smile. "If we did, you'd have to kiss me."

Noah fakes a sigh, shaking his head in disgust. "And that would be fucking terrible."

"Terrible," She agrees.

"Terrible," He repeats the word again, sitting his beer bottle next to Rachel's glass on the table. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, his eyes never leaving hers. She's seriously blushing, and she hates that there's no way to cover it up.

"But, uh, since we're at a Christmas party and everything," Noah's voice is factual and optimistic, and Rachel can feel the corners of her lips pulling up in a smile. "We should try and blend in, you know? When in Rome and all that shit."

Rachel's stomach does a flip, and she struggles to keep her composure. With a tone of voice that matches his exactly, she replies. "I suppose you may have a point, Puckerman. It may seem ungracious to go against the Fabray's traditions, especially when they've invited us especially."

"Exactly, babe." He smirks and steps closer, and Rachel takes a steady breath, holding up her hand in warning.

"One little kiss. One, Puckerman. And keep your hands to yourself. We're in public."

"Deal."

Keeping his hands in his pockets, Noah slowly bends down to her level. Rachel closes her eyes, placing just one hand on his shoulder when his lips meet hers in the softest, briefest kiss she's ever had. He pulls back after just a second and her eyes flicker open in surprise. He's smiling. She thinks she is too, but she can't be sure.

There's a silence between the two the lasts for at least twenty seconds. Rachel's lips, although she was barely kissed at all, seem to be tingling, and she can't stop herself from licking them. Noah's eyes follow the movement, and he takes his hands from his pockets to run them over his mohawk.

"Noah?" Rachel eventually speaks, trying her best to sound as calm as she possibly can.

"Yeah, babe?"

"Can you kiss me again?"

He laughs and steps closer. "Sure thing, beautiful."

"But, um, you don't have to be so carefu-"

She stops with a squeak as Noah's hands suddenly entangle themselves in her hair, pulling her towards him with a force she couldn't possibly resist if she tried. Her own hands go straight to his arms, running her small fingers over the defined muscles. Suddenly, his lips are on hers with no hint of the previous tenderness. This kiss is determined and passionate, rough and completely 'Puck'. She loves it, and she kisses back recklessly, her hands moving to rest on his cheeks, holding him to her. He sweeps his tongue against her lips and she whimpers, completely melting against him. He smells amazing.

"Mmph, wait, wait." She somehow manages to pull away from him, her breath coming out in quick gasps.

"Something wrong, baby?"

"Finn."

"What? Why the _fuck _are you thinking of him when you're kissing me?"

"No, no!" Rachel protests quickly, grabbing his hand in reassurance "I just mean, I don't want him to see this and we should... We should go somewhere else and maybe kiss some more." She blushes deeply, and hears Noah breathe a sigh of relief, letting go of her hand to wrap his arm around her waist.

"I don't want him to get mad at _you_ this time." She admits, and Noah quickly kisses the top of her head.

"Come on, Rach. I know a great little couch on the top floor."

It makes her laugh and bite her lip when he starts pulling her impatiently towards the door, flashing her a huge, anticipating grin.

Maybe she is pretty glad that she came after all.

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**Review? :3**


	4. 4 How to Survive a Hangover

**So I've been suffering from a case of writer's block for months now, and this is my attempt at getting over it. This is the scene that I wanted to see in the 'Blame it on the Alcohol' episode in season two, so yes, there's spoilers. I hope you guys like it! And hopefully now that I've forced myself to write this little scene, I can work on one of the six billion ideas I have in my head for oneshots and multi-chapters. Anyway, all mistakes are mine, and I apologize in advance for any you guys might find.**

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Rachel Berry wakes up to the sound of someone pounding at her front door, and each knock makes her feel like someone is attacking her head with a baseball bat.

Rachel, through lack of sleep and a major hangover, is momentarily confused as to what the sound is, and for a moment, she can only lie in bed with her eyes tightly closed, wondering what's going on. When she realizes that she has a visitor, she lets out a loud groan and sits up weakly, her thoughts slow and unfocused. She opens her eyes then, letting out a pathetic-sounding whimper at the brightness of her bedroom. It's genuinely painful to look at.  
Sighing, she swings her legs out of bed, reluctantly getting up to stumble out of her bedroom.

She's never felt like such a mess before, so tired and dizzy, and just plain awful. Bleary-eyed, the girl focuses on her surroundings, and she's absolutely horrified as she takes in the sight of her once-immaculate house. Red plastic cups are strewn everywhere, there's bits of food stuck to the carpet, there's a pair of red lacy panties on the floor that she does _not _want to touch, and oh my goodness, is that _vomit_? Her stomach turns over, and she covers her mouth with her hand, taking deep breaths to gain some composure. Why on earth did she think having an unsupervised house party? Why did she believe that letting Noah Puckerman into her dad's liquor cabinet was a good idea?

Rachel swallows thickly, wincing at the taste of her own mouth. It's disgusting, and she genuinely wants to cry at how terrible she feels right now. There's another knock, and she mumbles something unintelligently, tripping over her own feet on her way to the door. She opens it slowly, takes one look at her visitor, and quickly pulling him inside before slamming the door closed behind her to block out the sunlight. She shields her eyes with a quiet moan of pain.

She absolutely _hates_ how amused he looks right now.

"What do you want, Noah?" She tries to say, but the words come out unclear and whispery. Her breath catches in her throat, and she closes her eyes, ignoring the boy's smirk and raised eyebrows.

She hears the tinkling sound of glass bottles hitting together and to her, the sound is like someone hitting a gong inside of her head.

"I'm replacing your dads liquor cabinet. Like I said," His voice is casual, easy, and it annoys her that he doesn't seem to be feeling the effects of the alcohol like she is. "Hey, you okay?"

"Do I look okay?" She breathes out, and _oh_, she thinks she's about to throw up.

"Actually, you look like total shit – holy fuck, are you gonna-"

She interrupts him by pushing past him, racing for the downstairs bathroom as quickly as her tired legs can carry her. She makes it to the toilet just in time, falling on her knees as her stomach decides to empty itself of the large amounts of alcohol she consumed last night.

It's disgusting. She can barely catch her breath, she's having trouble holding her hair out of her face, and there are tears streaming down her cheeks from self-pity, exhaustion, and the raw, burning pain of her throat. The worst part, however, is that she _definitely_ won't be able to sing this weekend. She's done so much damage to her vocal chords that she hates herself, a little.

Suddenly, there's an awkward hand on her back, and she feels absolutely humiliated that Noah Puckerman is seeing her in this state. She's grateful though, when he strokes his hand awkwardly through her hair, holding it back so that she doesn't have to. She sees his reflection in the mirror through the corner of her eye, and he looks mildly disgusted, but he's holding a glass of water for her. She appreciates it.

When she's finished, she stands up shakily, quickly wiping her mouth as she steps over to the sink. Saying nothing, she grabs the glass of water from Puck's outstretched hand and rinses her mouth, her face still wet with tears.

"Your first hangover is a bitch," Puck says matter-of-factly from the bathroom door, his eyes on hers through the mirror. He says nothing else, no words of sympathy, and Rachel glares at him as she grabs the mouthwash and takes a large gulp, cleaning her mouth before spitting it back into the sink. She splashes some cold water on her sweaty face, and it makes her feel a little better.

She leans against the back of the sink with heavy-lidded eyes, drained of all energy.

"I'm never drinking again," She says in a hoarse whisper, and it makes her wince notably when he barks out a laugh that sounds much too loud. He shrugs apologetically.

"Shit, sorry," He grins, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "S'just that everyone says that shit, but it's total bull. You're a wild one, Berry. I was here last night, remember? I _saw_."

She feels the blush creep into her face and she opens her mouth to reply indignantly, but the sudden smell of the fresh mint mouthwash makes her stomach churn. Instead, she shakes her head weakly and pushes past Puck to leave the bathroom, sitting down heavily on the staircase in the hallway. He follows her, obviously amused at how out of character she's acting right now.

"I blame you for this," She mutters weakly, not glancing up as he hovers over her.

"No way. I didn't force you to start mixing shit. S'pretty awesome that you did though."

"How can you not be hungover right now?"

"Mine only lasts a few hours. And, y'know, I'm not a lightweight."

She moans softly in reply and he chuckles, taking a hold of her wrists and pulling her gently to her feet. She doesn't protest, simply because she doesn't have the energy to fight him. He places his large hands over her shoulders.

"'Kay, so here's the plan," He says, forcing her to look at him. "You're gonna go shower, because _fuck_, no offense, you smell kinda bad right now, and you really gotta get out of that stupid dress. And while you do that, I'mma go get you some hangover stuff, 'kay?"

She nods weakly, slightly offended but also grateful that he's looking after her, in his own weird, insulting way. He spins her slowly around and pushes her gently up a step, and she follows his instructions, slowly heading for her private bathroom. He closes the front door behind him much too loudly, probably to make up for acting somewhat nice to her.

-/-

The shower provides her with a small amount of relief, and the warm water against her skin seems to wake her up a little more. The sound of the running water makes her headache stronger, she tries to ignore it as she scrubs insistently at her body with some fruity soap, desperate to wash the feeling of last night off her skin.

She doesn't bother to dress up for Puck coming back. He saw her last night and witnessed her throwing up earlier, so she figures that he's already seen her at her worst. Instead of freaking out over her appearance like she usually would, she simply ties her hair back in a ponytail and throws on some pink sweatpants and a white tank top, before adding a pair of dark sunglasses, as the bright light simply feels unbearable to look at.

She's lying on top of her bed when he comes back, and the rattling, familiar sound of his truck's engine makes her want to cry in frustration. It's just so _loud_. She places a pillow over her head to muffle the sound of his entrance, including his heavy footsteps as he climbs up the stairs to her bedroom. She feels him sit down on the edge of her bed, and she moves the pillow to glare at him, before remembering that he can't see through the sunglasses.

"You're trying to kill me," She accuses hoarsely, propping herself up a little. "You're so _noisy_!"

"Hey!" He looks offended. "M'_helping_ you, Berry. I brought you some shit to make you feel better."

Rachel's lips curve upwards in a small smile. "Like what?"

"Like, six bottles of Mountain Dew, 'cuz it's the best hangover cure ever. Painkillers for the headache, and Tums for the heartburn and shit."

He hands her a couple of boxes of pills, and she wastes no time in tearing them open, using the Mountain Dew to help her swallow a few down. She chooses to ignore the fact that she's usually against drinks that are high in sugar, as well as pills that haven't been reccomended to her by a doctor. She just doesn't have the energy to care.

"Now you gotta eat something," He instructs, taking the boxes off her bed and sitting them on her nightstand, and she pales a little at the thought of food.

"No," She protests, with a shake of her head. "I can't… Can I just go for a nap?"

He shrugs and kicks his sneakers off, before moving to lie beside her, and she watches him confusedly. "What are you doing?"

"M'napping too. Problem?"

She breathes out a quiet laugh and shakes her head a little, lying back onto the pillows next to him. "No touching me."

"Got something against spooning?"

"Noah… Your proximity in my bed makes me a little uncomfortable."

He rolls his eyes and scoffs. "Berry, I'm not gonna put the moves on you when you feel like shit. M'tired too, is all."

"Oh." She moves over to give him a little more room, and tries not to be too surprised when he wraps his arms around her from behind. "So the Pucksaurus likes to cuddle, huh?"

She's smiling, a little bit.

"Shut up." He's grinning too, she fan feel his smile against her exposed shoulder. "God, you're fucking tiny."

"I'm _petite_!" Her voice cracks, and it ruins the defensive effect of her statement.

"You're a midget. Go to sleep."

-/-

She wakes up to a rustling noise, and her sleepy eyes widen in surprise as she watches Noah throw empty cups from her nightstand into a trash bag.

"You're cleaning," She accuses tiredly, and he turns to look at her, shrugging sheepishly.

"Shit, sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

She lets out a breathy, tired sigh and sits up. The pills and the sleep have worked a little. "Why are you cleaning?"

"'Cuz your place has been trashed. Why were Santana's panties in the hall?"

She tries not to look too disgusted. "I'd rather not think about that. What did you do with them?"

"Trash."

"Oh. Good."

She swings her legs out of bed and takes off the sunglasses, rubbing at her eyes. It's getting dark outside, and she tries not to be too mad at herself for sleeping the day away. She passes him an empty chip packet and a few empty wine cooler bottles. She thinks that they were hers, and she has a sudden, unflattering flashback of making out with Santana on her bed, through a dare from Artie.

She stands up, looking at him with wide eyes. "Did I make out with Santana?"

He laughs loudly, and she doesn't even yell at him for it. "Sure did. Shit Berry, you made out with pretty much everyone."

"Finn?" She asks timidly, because she honestly cannot handle anymore drama with the taller boy.

"Not Finn," He confirms, and he looks a little too pleased about that.

"You?"

"Yup. But shit, Berry. When do we not make out?"

She groans and shoves at him a little, though it doesn't have much of an effect. "That's true. We should stop doing that."

"Fuck no."

Rachel lets out a quiet, croaky laugh and shakes her head amusedly, bending down to retrieve some paper plates from her carpeted floor.

-/-

"No Noah, the whiskey went behind the rum."

"Rachel, no way. I'm telling you, it was next to the goddamn vodka."

"Stop being so infuriating, Puckerman! It's my house, I know how my dads arrange the alcohol."

"Except you've never touched a drop in your life before last night, and I'm the one who busted into the liquor cabinet in the first place. Sorry Rach, but you don't know shit about this."

"You're making my headache worse."

"You're being annoying."

She huffs, offended, and she tries to stop herself from stamping her foot, because she knows how much he'd tease her for that. Giving up with a sigh of frustration, she spins around, though she stumbles at the sudden dizziness she feels. His calloused hands are immediately on her arms, steadying her.

"You okay?"

"'I'm _fine_!"

"Stop being so goddamn pissy!"

She looks at him angrily, as he stands in front of the liquor cabinet, bags of alcohol at his feet. Rachel is about to lecture him on his word choice, but softens suddenly at the irritated expression on his face, realizing that she should be more grateful to him for helping her today.

"I'm sorry," She apologizes, her hoarse voice still very much present. She's thrown up a number of times throughout the day, and her throat is raw and painful.

He shrugs with a smirk, picking up the bottle of whiskey he bought and sitting it next to the vodka. "S'okay."

She hands him another bottle, before moving to rearrange the candles on the shelf beside the cabinet. "Do you realize you've stayed here all day?"

"Yup," He pops his 'p'.

"Why?"

"You were sleeping through most of it. Y'know that people choke on their own vomit and die in their sleep, right?"

Her eyes widen, scared. "And Kurt and Mercedes left me alone last night! I'm going to- Wait, are you saying that you don't want me to die?"

He pulls a bored face. "I dunno. Kinda."

"'Kinda?'" She imitates him quietly, trying not to smile. "D'aww, you like me."

"No duh, Sherlock." He rolls his eyes as he continues adding the bottles to the cabinet. "Besides, I owed you one anyway. For the whole zombie-football thing."

She brightens at the memory. "That was fun. Except for the part that I thought I was going to be violently killed."

He chuckles at that, but doesn't reply. They work in comfortable silence for a while, and Rachel finds it soothing, the way he hums to himself as he organizes the bottles.

"Noah? You said that you wanted to get drunk and have sex." She hates how hesitant she sounds.

"Yeah, so?"

"Did… I mean, did you…"

"Hook up? Nah. I broke up with Lauren last night. If that's what you can call it."

"Oh," She's not sure how she feels about this piece of information. "Why?"

"Sick of giving and not getting anything back. And, you know, not just sexually and shit. She told me I sucked at kissing. S'total bullshit."

"Yes," Rachel agrees with him before she realizes that she's speaking, and immediately blushes when she feels his eyes on her. She just knows that he's wearing that arrogant smirk of his. "I mean, you're fairly adequate…"

"I'm fuck awesome."

She giggles and nods, rubbing her temple slightly as she gestures to the alcohol. "Are you finished?"

Puck ignores the question."Y'know that if there wasn't a risk of you throwing up in my mouth then I would've started making out with you hours ago, right?"

She only nods slowly. He's not lying, she knows.

Surprisingly, she regrets drinking anything last night. She really wants to take him up on that offer.

Once again, she starts speaking before she realizes.

"My dads won't be home for another three days…"

His eyes widen and her face feels unbearably warm. She turns away, but he's suddenly tugging at her, forcing her to look at him. "That's an invitation."

"Yes," She confirms in a whisper, biting her lip. Puck grins hugely, one of his hands resting on her hip and rubbing slow circles with his thumb across the small patch of exposed skin.

"I really wish you didn't feel like shit right now."

She's smiling through her blush. "You're not the only one."

Despite her hangover, she's actually rather pleased that the day worked out as it has. She thinks it means something that he gave up his Saturday to take care of her, and she really wants to thank him for that in a way that he'll understand.

She can't wait until tomorrow.


End file.
